A Collection
by ThoseRustedPipes
Summary: A series of unrelated oneshots. Mostly Kurt based. Will have Klaine, Furt, and father/son cuddles. Awww.


**I don't own Glee. If I did, there would be no hiatuses.**

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Burt dumped Kurt's jack-o-lantern candy bucket out on to the small circular table in the kitchen while Kurt looked on in anticipation, still dressed in his Peter Pan costume.

"Here you go, Bud. Remember, if it's already open, you don't eat it. Give it to me or Mom and we'll throw it away, alright?"

Kurt nodded enthusiastically, climbing onto one of maple stools to leer over his hoard. "I know. I can have seven tonight, though, right? I think Mama said seven."

"Nice try, mister. Mom said five, like she says every year. Don't try to trick me; we'll both be in trouble." Kurt grinned up at his father innocently. "Go ahead and pick your five and we'll put the rest in a bag for later."

"How much later?" Kurt inquired eyes on his work as he rummaged through the heaping pile of sweets, turning each piece of candy over so that the label was facing up. "Can I have another piece after bath time?"

"Nope, Burt said, leaning against the stainless steel door of the refrigerator. "No more until tomorrow." Despite the fact that Burt wasn't taking Kurt trick-or-treating until after the dinner dishes were done, Kurt insisted on wearing his green tunic, tights, and little feathered cap to school. Elizabeth had to work late that night, so Burt was on his own.

Kurt took his trick-or-treating very seriously. They went to every single house on the block, Kurt insisting Burt call him "Peter," calling out randomly for Tinkerbell, asking if anyone had seen his lost boys, and even challenging a boy at least three years older than him dressed as a pirate to a duel before Burt dragged him away. Two hours later, Kurt's bucket was spilling over.

"Daddy, what are these?" Kurt asked, holding up a small red box.

"Hot Tamales."

Kurt wrinkled his nose.

"No, they're good! It's like a spicy cinnamon candy. You like cinnamon."

Kurt opened the offending box and peered inside, nose still wrinkled in uncertainty.

Burt sighed. "Here. I'll tell you what. I'll let you try one and if you don't like them you can give them to me and it won't as one of your five, okay?"

Kurt poured the candy into his hand, examining the red capsule candy. Finally, he put one in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Burt watched him, wanting to see his son's face when the heat hit. He wasn't disappointed.

Kurt's eyes widened, coughing as the spice hit his throat. He made to spit it out.

"Just swallow it," Burt laughed. "The taste is already in your mouth. Spitting it out won't make it go away."

Kurt's face turned red and his eyes watered, but he swallowed with a grimace, dropping his mouth open to air it out.

Burt laughed. "See? That wasn't so bad." Kurt glared at him, shoving the rest of the cinnamon candies into his father's hand before rushing to the bathroom to wash out his mouth.

Burt continued to laugh to himself, popping Kurt's discarded candy into his mouth, enjoying the spicy burn.

Suddenly, a scream came from down the hall, startling Burt.

"Kurt? You okay?" he called as he headed towards the bathroom.

Kurt stood crying in front of the sink, staring at his reflection in the large mirror, poking at his mouth.

"Come on, Kurt. It wasn't that bad," Burt said, leaning against the doorframe. "Stop crying."

Kurt turned to his father, still pulling at his lips. "Look!" His lips were red and swollen, like he had been chewing on them for hours, and a splotchy red rash spread from his lips up under his nose and down his chin onto his slender neck. "It hurts!" he cried.

"Oh my God, Kurt! What did you get into?" Burt rushed to his son, picking him up and setting him on Elizabeth's stained makeup table. Kurt simply shook his head, too distraught to say anything more.

Burt wet a washcloth and held it to Kurt's swollen mouth. "What did you get into?" Burt asked again. He knew his kid had allergies, but he'd never seen him have a reaction this sudden or violent before.

"I don't know," Kurt wheezed, his voice muffled by the cold cloth.

"Let me see," Burt said, removing the washcloth. "Open your mouth; let me see."

Kurt opened his mouth, tears still running down his face. His tongue was swollen, as was his throat, making it hard for him to breathe.

"Oh God." Burt ran through Kurt's allergies in his head, trying to figure out what could have caused this. He hadn't had any penicillin or codeine, and pine pollen never gave Kurt a rash.

"My hand hurts, too," Kurt rasped, holding out his shaking hand to show his father. A similar rash spread from the center of his small palm, swelling and stiffening his little fingers.

"Let me see the other one." Kurt's right hand was rash free, except for a bit of red marring the tip of his index finger and thumb. Where he had picked up the Hot Tamale.

"You're not allergic to cinnamon though."

Kurt looked up at his father with wide, bloodshot eyes.

Burt rewet the washcloth and picked Kurt back up, setting him on his hip. "Let's get you some ice."

Once Kurt was settled on the couch with his hand in some ice water, a cup of ice chips to suck on, and the washcloth over his stinging mouth, Burt called Elizabeth at work.

"I have no idea," Burt said worriedly. "He's never had a reaction like this before. It was so sudden."

"I don't know either," came Elizabeth's crackly reply. "Maybe it's just artificial cinnamon he's allergic to."

"Is that even a thing?" Burt asked incredulously. "I've never heard of anyone being allergic just to artificial cinnamon and not real cinnamon."

"I don't know. It's possible. Is he breathing okay? You said his throat was swollen. Do I need to come home?"

"No, he's okay. He's wheezing a little bit but he's alright. So, artificial cinnamon then? Really?"

"It looks like it."

Burt glanced at his whimpering son. "Poor little guy. Didn't even get to have any of his Halloween candy."

It took a couple of hours for the swelling to go down, though the rash stuck around for about a week. Kurt's lips finally blistered and the redness faded away. But that was the last time Kurt ever had Hot Tamales.

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**Author's Note:**

It would seem that I can't be trusted to do a regimented series with real chapters that correlate, as evidenced by Poached, with may actually happen sometime, maybe, eventually... maybe.

So please, if you have any ideas, any prompts, anything you want to see or don't want to see, LET ME KNOW! I can pretty much guarantee I'll use your ideas, just like how I stole this idea from Keitorin Asthore's Tumbled. If you want a higher quality writing, please read anything by her. She's amazing.

Read and review if you have the time.

Thank you!

TRP


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